Psychology
by esbmusic42
Summary: The inner workings of the mind are complex and private. Those who are able to see and experience it are special, but cursed with the knowledge that they touched something that wasn't truly theirs. A different look into the story of Yume Nikki.
1. Chapter 1

If you turn right from the Town Hall and keep travelling for two miles, you'll find that the road keeps getting smaller and smaller. The three generous lanes of traffic in each direction shrink into a single strip of asphalt that's barely big enough for one car to pass through, let alone two. LED light posts every hundred feet or so become the occasional, weak lamppost that, if you were to stop and properly look, was illuminated with a small, propane tank, like the ones the fancy eateries in the nearby cities use for cheese and chocolate fondues.

To most, it was a wonder that anyone could find this road, but for one Dr. Alison Sherwood, it was a damn near miracle.

Dr. "Please, call me Alison," Sherwood was a woman with straight (but limp) blonde hair and dark brown eyes. She was in her late twenties, but if no one told you that, you'd easily believe that she was in her mid-thirties, at least. It was something in the eyes, you'd argue, claiming that there was room for the spirit of youth that remained empty.

This, in actuality was not true. Dr. Sherwo-er…sorry, Alison, was indeed a tired woman, but not a dispirited one. In fact, she only bought this house and connected office on the aforementioned street a few months ago, and it relatively inexpensive for what it was (the total mortgage, she was delighted to discover, was only three times the price of the flat she used to live in while in university). Furthermore, despite being one of three buildings of any kind within half a mile on this road, she had managed to attract many troubled people in need of mental help, many of whom just needed to talk.

And Alison was, frankly, very good at talking. In fact, the only thing she could do better was listening.

So yes, it was a miracle for Alison that so many people could find that desolate little road from the Town Hall.

But not all miracles were sent to help, as she soon learned.

* * *

Alison was vacuuming the waiting room of her office for the next day's stream of patients when she heard the doorbell. She looked up from her work, surprised, and then looked at the hanging clock. It read 12:19 AM.

"Who would…" she muttered to herself, before turning off the vacuum and going for the door, redoing her ponytail as she went. Through the peephole, she saw someone she hadn't seen in years. Barely thinking properly in her shock, she hastily opened the door.

"Dr. Spector!" she said, perhaps a little too loudly as she pulled on her green sweater, trying to look presentable as she welcomed in her guest. "Come in, come in!" Alison was aware of the fact that she was yelping more than talking, but she couldn't help it.

It wasn't everyday that your high school biology teacher-turned psychological researcher appeared at your front door at the dead of night.

"Yes, yes. Hello," he said softly. It was then Alison realized that she hadn't properly taken a look at him. They were about the same height now (as they had been ten years ago), but Dr. Spector was hunched over in what seemed like depression (though it may have been just the weight of his briefcase-it was rather large). His eyes were wide and droopy and, as she could see now that they were in brighter light, sad. Alison opened and closed her mouth a few times, before asking if he wanted anything to drink. Dr. Spector shook his head, and collapsed into one of the seats in the waiting room. Alison cautiously took the seat next to him.

"Is something wrong?" she finally asked, almost afraid of how he'd react. Dr. Spector sighed.

"It's about Madeline Ikiyama," he said after a moment of silence. Alison's eyes widened. "She's…she tried to kill herself three weeks ago. Cut herself. Fortunately, her mother found her before she…it was too late, but she's in a coma now. She lost a lot of blood, and we think there might be brain dama-"

"Stop," Alison said shortly, trying hard not to show any emotion. Dr. Spector looked at her, startled.

"I-I'm sorry," he said afterward. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Why did you tell me that?" she asked eventually. It was Dr. Spector's turn to look startled.

"Well, you are her bes-"

"Cut the bullshit. You know just as well as I do that she stopped speaking to me years ago. Told me not to speak to her again during the graduation ceremony, if I remember correctly," Alison continued, almost mocking the memory.

"But stil-"

"While I was getting my diploma, of all times. Maddy was no best friend of mine. How could she be after that?" Alison continued, bordering on a tirade. Then she stopped, remembering her situation, and fell silent. She looked at her old teacher, seeing him twiddling his thumbs, even more nervous than before. "There's something else," she said.

"What are you talking about?" Dr. Spector asked, almost nervously.

"You didn't just come here to tell me about Maddy. What else is there?" Alison asked. Dr. Spector hesitated, before giving in.

"We need your help with her situation. You se-"

"No way," Alison replied flatly. Dr. Spector scowled.

"I wasn't finished. Now will you please stop acting like a child and listen to me?" Alison opened and closed her mouth a few times to protest, before eventually leaning back in her chair, motioning for him to continue. Dr. Spector took a breath before explaining.

"Ms. Ikiyama was diagnosed with clinical depression about six years ago. Her family took her to see countless therapists, tried dozens of experimental procedures to bring her out of it," Dr. Spector paused for a moment, as if he could get any emotion out of Alison. The young woman's face was still blank and serious. "Eventually, her family found that, for some reason, the less time she spent with her family, and the people she knew before her graduation from college, the less mentally disturbed she felt. It seemed illogical to several of the doctors they'd seen, and it seemed illogical to me when I heard about it, but it seemed appropriate at the time. So she-"

"Get to the point," Alison interrupted.

"I'm trying to," Dr. Spector bit back, clearly on his last nerve. Alison shrunk back into her seat slightly. "As I was saying, for the two years following the beginning of the treatment, she seemed fine. She got her own two-room apartment, got a job in a department store, and never had to see anyone from her past again, on the condition that a camera was set up in the main room. But," he sighed, readjusting himself in his seat. Alison leaned forward a bit.

"About six months ago, she stopped going out. She seemed to have quit her job, and ordered in groceries once a week. Her family started getting worried, but they thought that maybe she broke up with a boyfriend or something. But then she started talking to herself, and…" Dr. Spector trailed off.

"And they just found her dead one morning?" Alison asked. He nodded.

"She spent an unusually long time in the bathroom, apparently," he clarified. Alison made a small noise of understanding.

"I get it. It's sad and everything, but why did you get me? There must have been friends of hers in college that you could've gone to-"

"I'm not just asking you to show her support as a friend of hers," Dr. Spector explained softly. "I need you to study her."

Silence. Then-

"What do you mean by 'study her'?" Alison asked, completely dumbfounded. Dr. Spector started rummaging around his briefcase.

"Now where did I…here!" He handed her a small packet labeled "Instructions."

"And this is…" Alison asked, confused.

"A code of conduct," Dr. Spector explained.

"But why is it labeled 'Instructions?'"

"For the nature of your assignment, they mean the same thing."

"Who said I would take it?"

"You wouldn't?" Dr. Spector asked, raising his eyebrows in what seemed to be a mix of surprise and doubt. Alison sighed.

"No, I would. Just…what is this?" she said, motioning to the packet again.

"The papers are a list of instructions of how to react to being hooked up to a special brain transmitter. I need you to study Ms. Ikiyama's subconscious."

Alison stared at him as if he was mad. Dr. Spector sighed again.

"We developed a machine that will put the user in a-"

"No, no, that's not what I'm asking. It's just…Maddy's subconscious? I don't even know what was going through her head when we were friends. What makes you think that I could be of any help now? Surly she had some acquaintance with some experience with human behavior?" she protested. Dr. Spector smiled sadly.

"You're the closest thing she ever had to a friend, to her family's understanding. You're all we've got."

Alison fell back into her chair, absorbing the information. The two sat in silence for a mind-numbingly long time.

"I'm not a psychologist," she eventually murmured. Dr. Spector looked up.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"I'm not a psychologist," she repeated. "I don't do research, or study the subconscious, or whatever it is you're asking me to do. I talk through people's problems, I don't study how all people's minds work for the purposes of making a perfect cure for every problem. But…" Alison trailed off. Dr. Spector smiled slightly.

"If you agree, you'll be sedated and put into REM. The machine the papers discuss forces your brainwa-"

"I'm not a biologist or engineer. Just tell me what it does," Alison interrupted. Dr. Spector scowled for a bit, before continuing.

"It'll put your subconscious into the world she created in her comatose state. You'll be studying the projections made by them, identifying any possibly brain damage, and seeing what the root of her psychological problem is."

"I'm guessing that you hadn't tested it before because-"

"It's highly controversial. Nobody wants people to see their dreams, but this is a special case." Dr. Spector shot back. Alison was tempted to argue that perhaps Maddy wanted to keep her own dreams private, before deciding to ask another question.

"It seems more like you need one of those carnival psychics or street-corner dream interpreters. Why not them?" Dr. Spector sighed and stood up. Alison followed with her eyes, confused. "Where are you going?"

"If you chose to do this, meet me at St. Joseph's Hospital this Thursday at 8 in the evening. Just…no one else can do this. If we knew of someone else, I would've told you," he said, reaching the door.

"W-wait! Who's 'we?'" Alison asked, but the door shut behind Dr. Spector before she could get a reply. She shakily sighed and faced forward in her seat.

"Shit," she said after a few moments, looking at the clock again.

3:04 AM

So much for getting a good rest.

* * *

**Hey, Yume Nikki Fandom! This is my first fanfic for you guys! It's also my first fanfic for a video game! And for anything that had to be translated for English-speakers to understand! Yay!**

**(I profusely apologize for the absolute horridness that is the cover to this story. I shame everybody who can actually use MS Paint. Shaaaaaaaammme!)**

**On a more serious note, yes, this is my interpretation of what actually happens in Yume Nikki. I've seen it a lot in other fanfics based on psychological-thriller/horror based mediums like Yume Nikki, but not one for this fandom, so I figured "hey, why not?"**

**And yes, Dr. Spector is the Exposition Fairy. Every seen he's in will have him explode with exposition. He is Mr. Exposition. I hate writing exposition, but it had to be done. But he's not too important to the story after the second chapter, so it's okay.**

**Anyway, if you have any critiques on the plot, characterization, writing style, etc. please let me know. Remember, I can't improve unless I know what I'm doing wrong.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**esbmusic42**


	2. Chapter 2

St. Joseph's Hospital wasn't a new hospital, by any stretch of the imagination. This isn't to say that it wasn't renovated time and time again. In fact, the only indicators of the hospital's true age was the center room, the atrium, and the shiny bronze plaque in the lobby. The outside of the buildings was all blue-tinted windows and sliding glass doors. People in white labcoats and scrubs in various shades of gray hustled about, carrying clipboards with pens attached in one hand, and two gloves (yet to be put on) in the other. State-of-the-art technologies could be seen through the glare of the windows; some identifiable, some not (including a particularly vicious-looking machine which greatly resembled a plastic drinking straw adhered to a great supercomputer). In fact, at first glance one could easily believe that the hospital was only constructed five, maybe ten years ago.

Aforementioned one would be shocked to discover that the hospital was first constructed in 1885, precisely 120 years ago, in fact. To the day.

Today was October 6th, 2005. Thursday. 8 o'clock in the evening.

And as Alison stared up at the building before her, tote bag on her right shoulder and schedule-book in her left hand, all she could think of was:

_Why the hell am I here?_

* * *

As Alison walked into the atrium (muttering "Excuse me, can you help me find Madeline Ikiyama's room?" "Where is the atrium?" "Thank you" and "Oh my God, I'm so sorry" at various intervals to the people she encountered), the other various doctors, surgeons, psychologists, and frantic parents turned to her. Most of them turned away after offering her a look of indifference, but a couple of unfamiliar people offered tight smiles before doing the same. Dr. Spector, Alison noted silently, was one of the latter, though the look in his eyes projected a silent "I knew you would come."

Only three gave completely different reactions to her presence.

Mr. and Mrs. Ikiyama went to hug her (Mrs. Ikiyama ran; Mr. Ikiyama seemed to want to hold onto a bit of his dignity in his time of crisis. He still hugged her, though).

"Th-thank you s-s-so much!" Mrs. Ikiyama sobbed into Alison's somewhat threadbare brown coat. Alison chose to simply pat her back awkwardly and offer her a small, sad smile.

Mr. Ikiyama didn't say anything-he just offered her a short hug. Silent tears were running down his cheeks, and Alison could feel him shaking with his silent sobs. As she pulled away, Alison saw the final occupant of the room.

Maddy.

It almost didn't look like her, though. Her skin was too pale, her hair too limp. Her arms (fresh scars marring her wrists - Alison had to put her hand to her mouth in an effort to keep from vomiting) were far too thin and bony, as well. However, it was difficult to tell if that particular ill was a consequence of her not eating or an illusion created from the sheer enormity of the IV needle jammed into her arm.

She tried to avoid looking at her face, at the pronounced cheekbones and the oxygen mask and, the worst, her closed eyes.

That didn't open. That couldn't open.

That wouldn't open? Hopefully not.

Alison closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath.

"Alright," she said at last, opening her eyes. "What do I need to do?" She saw Dr. Spector smirk at her out of the corner of her eye.

"First, you'll need to sit down," one of the stern-looking doctors said, gesturing to the wooden chair at Maddy's bedside. The doctor in question was undoubtedly the oldest, his graying hair neatly combed under his plastic hairnet. His labcoat was just as pristinely white as the other doctors', but his seemed crisper, as if he'd ironed it just for the experiment. Not a procedure-Alison read through those damn instructions and there was nothing that stated that anyone knew what they were doing. Least of all her.

Alison sat down heavily, looking everywhere but at Maddy's empty face. The stern doctor smirked, and picked up a helmet-like thing that she only noticed now.

"What is that?" Alison asked, more than a little panicked. The helmet was made entirely out of metal, with rubber knobs at either sides, tangled wires sticking out everywhere, and plastic buttons of every color flashed. It looked like something straight out of a science fiction novel.

"It's the brain transmitter," the stern doctor said slowly, raising an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that you read through the code of conduct that Dr. Spector gave you." He smirked again, making Alison feel like a young child being told off by their older sibling for not knowing something 'obvious.'

"I did, sir. I just didn't expected to be so..." Alison struggled for a word. "colorful," she decided after a moment, cautiously taking another look at the helmet. The stern doctor frowned.

"It wasn't our intention. Everything on that helmet has a purpose, so unless you want to become a permanent vegetable like some of the other people in this hospital (Mrs. Ikiyama let out a small scream at that. Alison jumped. She'd forgotten that she was there), you shouldn't complain," he said crisply. Alison debated whether it would be worth it to point out that she hadn't complained and that he was incredibly rude considering present company, but instead decided to say:

"How long will I be out? The instr-er...code of conduct never said," she asked eventually. The stern doctor chuckled, and Alison resisted the urge to cringe-the laugh sounded just a bit too maniacal.

"There's a legitimate question." Alison frowned at that. "You will actually be in full control of that," he said. There was a silence as Alison waited for him to continue.

"Can you elaborate on that?" Alison asked, when about a minute went by in silence. The stern doctor smirked as he deposited the helmet onto her head.

"You'll wake up as you can in any dream. Pinch yourself somewhere, remember that it isn't real, wish to be away." Alison nodded nervously as he finished. The helmet was a bit too big, and started to fall off her head before she held it off her eyes with her hands.

"And what effect will it have on me?" she asked, as the stern doctor asked one of his assistants to get a similar helmet onto Maddy's head.

"Relatively positive, actually. The machine forces you into REM, so you'll be completely well-rested when you wake up." Alison shook her head.

"I already knew that. It's just...what will happen to me in the dream?" she said, absently fingering one of the loose wires on the helmet. The stern doctor slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch that," he said sharply, before continuing somewhat softer. "The dream will feel like its occuring in reality. For all intents and purposes, you will feel awake, and will be perfectly aware of your wherabouts physically (he pointed at her) and psychologically (he pointed at Maddy's helmet covered head). What do you call it...lucid dreaming? Yes, that sounds right-it forces you to lucid dream. Your environment won't necesarily feel real in terms of what you recognize as reality. It may, but that all depends upon what Ms. Ikiyama is dreaming herself."

"So, am I going into the depths of her subconsious now or-"

"No," the stern doctor interrupted. "Tonight is just a test. We will be sending you into her mind, and you can just walk around in a small area. Don't go too far from where you've gone. Just get a good look at your surroundings, and come back and tell us. It should only take a few minutes." Alison nodded, before realizing:

"How much time goes by in reality when I'm in the dream?" The stern doctor let out a rare smile.

"The same amount, actually. It only feels longer or shorter when you dream because your mind skips around at times. Repeating things, skipping to exciting things. But when you're fully aware, you'll find that time moves as normal."

"And will the mental skipping around affect me?"

"No. It may affect the environment around you, however, and it will definetely affect whoever Ms. Ikiyama is in her dream." Alison offered him a confused look. "She won't necesarily look like herself when you encounter her in the dream. She may look similar to how she actually looks, she may be younger, older, different eye color, anything."

"Should I know what she looks like?" Alison asked nervously, playing with her hands.

"Not tonight," the stern doctor said. "Tonight, you observe." Alison stared at her hands for a moment, before clenching them.

"I'm ready," she said lowly. The stern doctor smirked.

"Goodnight, then," he said, and he flipped a switch. Alison feel a pulse in her brain before collapsing in her chair. The last thing she saw of the waking world was Maddy's face.

* * *

She was falling.

Alison screamed as she hurtled toward the city below. The buildings all tall and sleek and completely surrounded her as the asphalt approached. She closed her eyes and braced herself for impact...

...and she fell softly onto a straw mat.

"I...what?" Alison said softly as she picked herself up and looked around.

She was in a bedroom. An immaculate bedroom, as a matter of fact. The bed was tightly made with hospital corners. The desk was neat and tidy save for a small, pink notebook with a window pattern on it. The TV in the corner was on the floor, no stand in sight, but it was free of dust.

She stared at the TV for a while, before deciding to turn it on. At first the TV was blank, as if it forgot to turn on. Suddenly, it turned a murky black, and, to Alison's shock, a black and white eye blinked at her sleepily before staring at her.

They stated for a minute or so, before the eye closed and the TV turned off by itself. Alison continued to stare.

This was Maddy's mind. This was-

A light bell tolled. Alison stood up quickly and found a sliding glass door. Shakily, she slid the door open.

The first thing that she noticed was that it was daytime outside. In fact, it was rather sunny and pleasant. Alison managed a small smile before walking outside. She breathed in.

It didn't quite feel like the real outside. But it somehow felt better.

She tried to walk to the railing to look outside, but she found that she couldn't. She frowned and tried to walk forward again. Something invisible was stopping her from walking forward. She pressed her hand against the invisible barrier.

"Fascinating," Alison muttered to herself, pulling her hand away. She turned around and saw another door inside the room. Slowly, she left outside.

Made it to the rug.

Past the desk and TV, to the door.

She opened it.

There were doors. Twelve of them. All in a circle. The doors were all different - some were of painted wood, others metal. One (second to her left, if she counted correctly) in particular reminded her of the helmet.

Jesus Christ, she was in Maddy's mind.

She slammed the door shut quickly, breathing heavily as she slid to the floor. She stated blankly toward this room. This blank and lifeless room. What was the point of it? Everything in this room was still. Even the air was still.

She heard a flutter of pages come from the desk. The notebook, right. She'd forgotten about it. She stood up and walked to the desk. Indeed the notebook was open.

And empty.

She thumbed through it, trying to find anything that could be of use, anything that could tell her what the goddamned doors were for and why the hell this room was here and what in the name of fuck is wrong with Maddy-

Last page.

Blank.

Screaming in frustration, Alison slammed the notebook on the desk. She moved to glare at it, but froze. The cover had changed. Rather than the bizarre window pattern, there were only these words.

"Property of Madotsuki, please stop reading me"

Alison backed up shakily, tripping on the ground where she fell the first time. She moved her arm back and slapped herself hard on the cheek.

And the world around her disappeared.

* * *

**Hey guys! So the second chapter is up! This has gone in a somewhat different direction than the one I was originally going for, but whatever! I like it!**

**Also, this is the first chapter of any of my FanFictions to be entirely written away from a computer. The chapter itself was written on my phone and this Author's Note was written on a tablet. So yay records.**

**Speaking of records, thank you for the people who favorited, alerted, and reviewed this story. I love you all!**

**There is a poll on my profile about what should be updated first in what order. The top-rated story will be updated twice before another story is updated, so please pick your favorites and go vote!**

**Finally, if you have any critques about plot/characterization/writing style/etc., please feel free to tell me. Remember, I can only improve if I know what I'm doing wrong.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**esbmusic42**


	3. Chapter 3

"Her heart rate's increasing! 150 bpm!"

"Breathe, Dr. Sherwood!"

"Get her a bed! She's going into shock!"

"Why didn't anyone check her medical records? It could be PTSD!"

Alison was vaguely aware of the shouts and cries around her. She could hear the panic of the doctors distantly, as if it happened ages ago, just as she could see the hospital walls around her as if she'd been there several years ago. The only clear image of the real world she held was that of Maddy, eyes still closed and skin still pale and wrists still marked with harsh, red lines.

_Maddy, who did this to you?_

"170 bpm! We need to put her on a respirator!"

"She's not breathing, Doctor!"

"Why the hell are you still crowded around her? Get her a fucking bed, Jenson!"

Everything else around her was the dream. The almost tangible thickness to the air, filled with what wasn't happiness (obviously not-how could it?), but what wasn't exactly sadness either. At least, not with what she associated with sadness.

Depression, probably. But that wasn't there either.

She felt something plastic and round cover her mouth and nose. She felt the machine forcing air in and out of her lungs. But, she didn't really feel it. Because she knew how Maddy felt.

"Down to 140! It's decreasing!"

"No PTSD, no psychological trauma, sir!"

"Must have been the patient…"

"Shit, what was in the mind of that nut job?"

_Lonliness_

* * *

When Alison woke up, she was greeted to a white room. White walls, white ceiling, white bed sheets, pillows, hangings. White, white, white. The only exception to this was the man hunched in the corner.

"Alison," Dr. Spector greeted, politely and solemnly. Alison stared, somewhat blankly, before returning with:

"Where am I?" It was very blunt. Even in her state, however, Alison felt she had a right to.

"St. Joseph's Cardiology Center." Alison blinked.

"Oh," she said blankly, after a moment. Dr. Spector tutted.

"Admittedly, the other doctors, particularly Dr. Shriver, wanted to put you in the psychological care ward. Though, I believe that being in that place would just cause your psychological troubles, rather than prevent them," he said smoothly. It sounded rehearsed to Alison, and she struggled with how to reply.

"How…comforting," she eventually decided, looking around the room. She only just then took notice of the "Ways to a Healthy Heart" poster hanging just next to the closed window. Hmm.

"Did I go into cardiac arrest or something?" Alison asked after a moment of examining the poster (less out of curiosity-much more so out of evading further conversation). Dr. Spector thought for a moment.

"Not exactly. I believe something happened to you that distressed you. Perhaps the reality of your consciences in what was otherwise a dream-like world shocked you, and you hyperventilated. I made a case for your heart going too fast, suggested that it was exhausted and that it would do you better to be with one of the hospital's cardiologists then with any of the psychologists you met last night."

"Those men were…?" Alison trailed off, comprehension dawning suddenly. Dr. Spector nodded.

"They took their entire psychological staff from their posts, from the dozens of people who needed them to watch a fucking experiment that was more likely to backfire on me than help her? They didn't even do anything but sit and watch and panic! Those idiots!" and Alison was gone. She couldn't believe that anyone worth their salt would consider just leaving their patients behind to watch something that wasn't their jobs. It was their duty to protect their patients minds-it was their jobs. To just abandon…To leave behind…

Leave behind…patients…

"Shit!" Alison exclaimed. "It's Friday! I have patients today. Oh my God, what time is it? I'm going to lose them all and they'll never ge-" Dr. Spector interrupted her now teary tirade.

"Relax. All of your appointments were pushed later." Alison blinked, and he continued.

"You will be discharged and escorted home at three o'clock, and all of your appointments start at four. I explained to them that their sessions would only be an hour to the apparent usual one and a half, and I promised them that they would only have to pay half the cost of a normal session. I'm terribly sorry," he suddenly changed his tone, watching Alison closely. "if that's not your policy. I'll pay for the remaining costs if it's not."

"T-that's fine," Alison replied, a little winded just from watching Dr. Spector's breathless speech. She looked around the room for any sign of a clock. "Can you tell me what time it is?"

"Just after nine in the morning," Dr. Spector responded softly. He stood up from the wooden chair. "Get some rest, make sure you're okay before your first appointment. I'll come to wake you a half hour before we leave."

Alison still had burning questions (Am I okay? Should I be seeing patients? What do you mean by "escorted"? Who is escorting me? Where will my car be? and, most importantly, What about Maddy?), but the idea behind Dr. Spector's words were so soothing, and she slipped back into sleep.

* * *

"…and he's been having trouble in his class-"

"No, I'm not, Mom! I've been fine. I'm doing my homework and everything. Just because you're too busy crying all the time doesn't mean-"

"Don't you dare say something like that! I loved him too, I'm allowed to suffer-"

"And I haven't? At least I've been trying-"

They were so angry and sad, this mother and son. She was only thirty, after all, and her son was only eight, and they lost the most important man in their lives. At this point, Erica and Jason would've been interrupted in their anger with questions about their lives. At this point, mother and son would have understood by the other a little better and would be just a little bit less angry and sad by the next session. But Alison was just staring off into space, the events of earlier still swirling from her mind.

She'd barely had time to comprehend it at the time, seeing as though she was asleep or fighting against it up until now, but she was finally awake and alert. And she remembered it all too clearly.

The room. The desk. The balcony. The TV.

The diary.

Oh, the diary, indeed.

Alison absently began writing on her notepad. She couldn't stop herself. Words were just flowing out of her. Not even complete thoughts, just words, whispers of ideas and memories alike.

Room – apartment?

Balcony and warmth

TV – eye. Judgement? Being watched?

Window/diary and balcony – waiting, being held back.

Lonliness. Waiting for something.

"OW!"

Alison looked up sharply to see Jason, in all his anger, tugging Erica's hair back so hard that her head fell backwards at a sickeningly quick pace.

Maddy's unconscious, unseeing face flashed in her mind for less than half a second and Alison was on her feet.

"I HATE YOU!" Jason screamed. (Funny, because it reminded Alison of Maddy, too).

"Jason!" Alison said almost as he declared his hate, trying to pull him away from her and be consoling at the same time, but he wouldn't have any of that.

"NO, I WANNA GO HOME! I WANNA SEE DAD AGAIN!" and he started sobbing again. And Erica, still holding her head in pain, cradled him into her chest.

"I want to, too," she said softly, crying alongside him.

Alison almost smiled at the scene, but it was much too painful to even think about.

Because at least they were able to forgive in the end.

* * *

Alison was smart enough to realize that, seeing as though she was most likely traumatized herself not even a day ago, it was probably a terrible idea for her to see patients. Of course Dr. Spector had clearly overestimated her psychological strength, even to the point of thinking it was a good idea for her to see a new patient, who he had not disclosed the name of.

So when the doorbell rang and Alison buzzed the new patient in, she could only worry about what first impression she gave off-

"Allie," the patient said. She looked up and time froze.

"Sebastian?" Alison asked after several moments, her disbelief clear on her face. Sebastian laughed.

"It's good to see you too, Allie-"

"Dr. Sherwood," Alison cut in sharply. Sebastian cocked his head to the side.

"We're on last name terms again?" he laughed. "I thought we moved passed that years ago."

"Times change," Alison said, gripping the arms of the computer chair tightly as she spoke.

"Come on, you know me. Seb, remember? Dashingly handsome, incredibly charismatic-"

"And dickish person, right? Well, you got one description correct-" Sebastian chuckled, though a bit more solemnly.

"That's the old Allie I remember," he said softly. "Look, I didn't come for a confrontation-"

"Surprising," she stung back. Sebastian looked up, and Alison was surprised to see him genuinely upset. He wasn't crying, or even sad. His expression looked as most of the men his age who came to her office; upset, frustrated, and confused.

"Just, please? Can I please speak? If I'd had another option in town I would've taken it, you know that. But I needed to talk to someone before…" he trailed off. Alison looked back.

"Before…" she prompted, going into therapist mode.

"Before…you know that Maddy's in the hospital, yeah?" Alison's eyes narrowed.

"Yes…I visited her last night," she replied slowly.

"How is she?" he asked. Alison considered for a moment.

"Alive," she decided. Sebastian looked relieved.

"T-that's good," he said. They were silent. Then:

"What're you doing here?" she finally asked. Sebastian was silent for several moments, before continuing.

"I…I don't know. It's really hard to explain, now." He stood up and left. Alison stared after him.

So ended the shortest therapy session she'd ever offered. And the cheapest, she later found out from Ms. Elner (her secretary) – he'd left without paying. She didn't blame him, though. She couldn't really, because only one question echoed in her mind.

_What the fuck just happened?_

* * *

Sebastian Masada was the best guy in their year in high school. It was indisputed fact. He was always nice to everyone, had good grades, was valedictorian, knew several languages (fluent in three before he started school: English, Japanese, and Greek), was great at sports, and was incredibly good-looking. The whole shebang.

And what made him most alluring was that he refused to date anyone.

Until he started dating Alison toward the end of their senior year.

She still remembered how lucky she felt, knowing that the kind smiles, the fine black hair and golden eyes were hers. She, along with the rest of the school, also didn't know how he picked her. Sure, Alison wasn't exactly the most unpopular girl at school, but she certainly didn't stand out either.

Maddy knew, though. She always knew. It was the main reason that most people wouldn't go near her, as well as the main reason that the two were best friends.

The closest in the world.

In. Any. World.

Ring.

Ring?

_Brrring!_

* * *

Alison was snapped from her musings when the telephone rang. She stumbled off of the sofa to pick it up off the receiver.

"Hello?" she gasped into the phone.

"Hello, Dr. Sherwood. It's Dr. Shriver, from last night," the stern doct-Dr. Shriver said smoothly.

"Good afternoon," Alison replied, only half-aware of the repeated greeting.

"Good afternoon, indeed," Dr. Shriver said. Alison waited for him to speak. She was only partially surprised when he did. "I suppose you've thought about it?"

"What is 'it,' exactly?" Alison asked, more to confirm than inquire.

"The experiment, of course."

"You're admitting it now, I see."

"I never denied it," Dr. Shriver pointed out smugly. Alison could hear the slight smirk in his voice. "So, will you?"

"Will I be able to visit her apartment?" Alison asked.

Silence on the other line, then:

"What?" Dr. Shriver finally asked. She breathed out.

"I haven't spoken to Maddy in ten years, since our graduation from high school. I know who she was, not who she is. I need to meet the people she's met, visit her alma mater, see her college friends. Go to her job. See her apartment," Alison finished. But, as if she needed to repeat the point, she did: "I need to see her apartment."

"That's an invasion of privacy," Dr. Shriver eventually said. Alison laughed.

"And traversing someone else's dream isn't?" The silent _touché_ was clear from his end. "Well?"

"I believe that's for me to ask you," Dr. Shriver smirked through the phone. Alison could hear all of his arrogance, like he knew what she was going to say. She could've given herself the satisfaction of making him wrong. But she didn't.

"I'll do it," Alison finally said. And she hung up, for that was that.

* * *

**Dat chapter. Dat chapter that I did instead of working on my Environmental Science project due in two days. Because I'm a masochist like that.**

**Preparation for all nighter – engage.**

**I'm relatively proud of this chapter. I like it. And it's funny, because despite being in a fandom that I don't read a lot of fanfiction from, Psychology is now my favorite of my stories to write, which is an advantage in a lot of ways – I can ensure that I'm original if I don't know what other people are doing. Now please excuse me as I put on the Hipster Glasses…**

**Yeah. Anyway…**

**If you notice anything about the characterization/plot/writing style/etc. that you want to tell me about, please feel free to tell me. Remember, I can only improve if I know what I'm doing wrong.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**esbmusic42**


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